He had the same dream again, the one he'd had ever since he'd arrived in America.
He was on a pier, and it was very foggy, but then the moonlight pierced the fog, and out of it, seeming to be in the center of the light, was Agnes. Beautiful Agnes. And she was smiling at him and laughing with him, and she'd touch his arm and not shy away when he put his arm around her waist. They'd walk awhile, in fog, but moonlight always encircling them. Then he'd make the mistake of saying it. It varied from dream to dream, but was usually something along the lines of 'Come with me' or 'Don't go' and then he would lean down to kiss those beautiful lips. But she would pull away from him, just as their lips were about to touch, and a sadness would come into her eyes that hadn't been there before.
She always opened her mouth to say something then, but Caspar Landry always woke up just as her mouth shaped the words. Or word. For Caspar knew exactly what she would say…and he'd prefer to let the dream not end.
On one such morning, Caspar jerked awake, in his hotel bed, in the Ritz, in America, literally an ocean away from Agnes. It had been so long since he had seen her, and long since he'd had the dream. As he got out of bed, he wondered if at least the dream would ever end happily.
He very much doubted it, and life went on for Caspar Landry.
And then he had the dream again, months even after that night, on the night which marked the third year since he'd come back to America. But this time, she took longer in coming, and he was waiting on the pier, feeling himself getting colder and colder.
He stood up and moved off the pier, going to the beach, and walking along the waves, feeling his feet get wet. There was no fog tonight. He could see everything clearly, and even he knew that Agnes wasn't coming this time, nor ever again. It was the end of an era for him. He was finally letting go of Agnes, but oh, god, he didn't want to.
When he woke this time, tears were coming down his face, and it was still the middle of the night. He wondered what had awoken him—but it was probably just the pain he felt that had pulled him awake.
He got out of bed and walked to the window, staring without seeing at the moonlit night in his view. He debated pouring himself a drink and decided against it.
It was then that the knock sounded again.
Caspar turned around in complete confusion. What on earth was anyone doing, coming here at this hour?
I probably look terrible, he said, and washed his face before going to the door.
"Yes, what do you want?"
There was a bellboy standing outside. "Sorry, sir, but I was told to send this up."
Confusion washed over him but he took the proffered item. It was a package of stockings.
"I don't understand, who sent…" he looked back up to find the bellboy gone and a woman standing there.
A hesitant smile played on her lips but it was her eyes that Caspar concentrated on.
"I—Caspar, I want—"
No further words escaped her lips, for Caspar had seen what he was hoping for in her wonderful eyes and had pulled her to him, embracing her tightly.
"You finally came to me."
"Yes, I did," Agnes whispered.
